My Life After
by foppery
Summary: Tifa was a young woman, filled with rage, hurt... The slums of Midgar are a tough place to survive, and 'terrorist' isn't exactly an ideal profession.  Tifa's life after Nibleheim, eventual Cloud/Tifa.
1. My life before, the turning point

**A/N: Oh my god, a chapter story? WHAT? Yup. A' I had actually intended for this to be a one-shot... But it shall be continued. Lord. Tifa's just too fun to write, though! =D **

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_turning point: -noun ; a point at which a decisive change takes place; critical point; crisis._

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Midgar was known for having fair weather, but today.. it was snowing. The chill nipped at Tifa's exposed arms and legs and more than once on this journey she had wished she had been able to change from her Mt. Nibel Guide uniform into something less.. _revealing_, but clothes required money and money was scarce enough already, especially to a traveling teacher and girl from the boondocks, so she begrudgingly wore the thin fabric and held her complaints.

Ahead of her, Master Zangan let curses loose under his breathe as he trudged along the muddy ground, because the snow that fell around them today wasn't the same sort as that which fell in Nibleheim. Not powdery and soft, but almost a sludge, laced with grime and made this way from pollution.

_"Tifa! _I can see the wall of Midgar!"

The elder man was pointing ahead, his beard trembling as he spoke, either from excitement or the simple fact that it was _damn_ cold out here and _why the hell was she still wearing this damned miniskirt?_

"I can _see._" Tifa muttered, snippy from the weather. Zangan didn't even glance back at the girl, his footsteps picking up speed.

"Once we get here, you'll be set! You can start a new life!"

The brunette's eyes dropped towards the ground. She was a teenager, still a child back in Nibleheim, as much as she had denied it back then. It was a hard thought... a _new_ life... when it seemed she was just starting her old one.

Tifa hadn't cried when she awoke the morning after Nibleheim burned... She found herself blinking awake in a makeshift bed on the floor of a cave, Zangan looking grave next to a fire that seemed to crackle too happily... No, she didn't recall crying. She did, however, remember being _angry._ So filled with rage that she felt sick to her stomach and wanted to _destroy_ something.

The firelight reflected off of Zangan's wiry beard was pretty, she remembered thinking, and the warmth felt nice... But there was still that sickening heat in her gut and when the old man looked over to her, with those eyes of a father and that unbearable _knowing _look, she broke.

_"WHY? Why did you save ME?" _

Her voice shook and he looked away, his wrinkles seeming deeper and scars more vivid in the light.

_"You... are my student. Like a child to me. I had to protect you." _ He stood and began tending the fire. _"Most would say 'thank you for saving my life', Tifa."_

Tifa's eyes averted and she pushed a woolen blanket from her, the roughness of the material scratching against her skin as she did so. She missed her room. Missed her soft quilt her mother had sewn for her. Missed her father. Her friends.. Her _home..._ She chewed at her lip slightly, holding it in.. A hand was placed on her shoulder, and she tremblingly leaned into it.

_"I... I wish I had died too..."_

The strong hand on her collar tightened, squeezing painfully.

_"Don't say such a thing, you spoiled child."_

Zangan's voice was brusque, stern.

_"If such was true... how would you get your revenge? How would you repay the man that caused you this pain?"_

The girl tensed... revenge? Was that the solution she was so desperately searching for...?

She glanced towards her shaking hand, and pulled it into a fist. _Yes. _Yes, that was it. That's what would solve this... this _anger..._ Her fingernails pushed into her palm in a manner that normally would have made her yelp out in pain, but today... since the fire... she was numb. Numb and angry and _she would kill that man..._

"Tifa? Hurry up!"

The martial artist had come to a stand-still, turning back to look at his hesitant student. Tifa shook her head- as if shaking the flashback from her mind- and started forwards again. The gate to the city was close, and the girl was beginning to notice the sheer immensity of Midgar. From here, she couldn't even see the tops of the skyscrapers on the upper plate, so different from Nibleheim where the largest building was the old manor... The air here smelled, muggy and stale and thick, obviously laced with pollution.

At the gate, stood a man, asking for 'keycards' to get in. Zangan pulled a small sheet of plastic from a knapsack on his hip and the man scanned it with a hand-held machine that reminded Tifa of a miniature cash register. Whilst she observed curiously, the feeling grew of a gaze on her. The man was gawking at her, his eyes greedily taking in her legs and exposed waist with scrutiny. She shifted, uncomfortable, and tried not to look at him. She figured this would be the start of many lewd expressions she would be given in this city...

Zangan, truly a saviour, wrapped an arm around his student and pulled her through the gate, away from the prying eyes.

The slums of the Midgar... smelled. No, seriously. _Smelled_ _awful._ Tifa gagged when they entered Sector Seven, the scent of dead rats and people and beer and piss entering her nose all at once and _who the hell could live here?_ She missed the mountains... the crisp air and scent of trees... This city was _miserable_. But... ShinRa was here. And that man. The man she had to _kill._ So, she would ignore the stench and grime caking her boots and snowy-sludge tracked in through the gate that was making it hard for her to walk without slipping and she would _find him and kill him._

They met a man in the pub of a place called Wall Market, large and dark, with a gun grafted onto his arm. Tifa didn't know how he knew Zangan, or how the two entirely different men could even remotely be connected, but by the way her master light-heartedly called out "Barret!", she could tell they were friends, of sorts. 'Barret' was gruff, with a mouth like a sailor and a scent to match. He was brutal looking, tattoos on his muscled arms and dogtags around his neck. She caught a glimpse of the name on them, _'Dyne C-'._

_ "_Dyne...? Who-?"

Tifa was cut off by a murderous look and Zangan's hand resting on her shoulder in a _hush_ing manner. She supposed it was a fresh wound that she'd best leave alone...

The two men began to speak, about the Planet. How ShinRa was killing it, how the mako reactors were sucking out all the beauty of the world. She remembered the mako fountain in Mt. Nibel... thought of how it would disappear, just like Nibleheim, just like her dad, and Cloud, and her mother's warm quilt and her piano and the delicate flowers that bloomed by the well and _oh god she hated ShinRa so much. _

Barret was a terrorist. Of course, she knew of AVALANCHE. Everyone did. AVALANCHE was responsible for most of the anti-ShinRa acts that happened around the world... they killed a lot of people. Some deserved it. Others... didn't. Tifa didn't like death, hated it. Hated the pain that it brought her. But... she needed something.. something.. _real._ And death was _very _real, terrorism was real. And, with clenched fists and resolve and_ so much god damned RAGE_, Tifa joined the number one terrorist organization in the world, in a place that stunk like shit and death, underneath falling apart metal where there should have been sky...

Sixteen, beautiful, and mad as hell. _This was the start of Tifa Lockhart's new life._

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**A/N: **So.. yup. Short introduction. Once again, I had intended this to be just a one-shot... =D **R&Rs are appreciated. **


	2. Of dolls & whiskey

**A/N:** Well, here's chapter one! I'm finding this really fun, ya know? I think I'll update this weekly, atleast. I may get on a streak where I start poppin' out chapters like Kate Gosselin does kids. ;D

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Tifa had her first drink of whiskey when she was twelve, 'carefully' hidden in the tool shed behind her house, two little boys sitting across from her on the floor. It was her idea, she was the one who brought the booze, snatched with trembling fingers from her father's stash under his bed because he was mayor and a daddy and mayors and daddies get tired after work and _it only helps me sleep, sweetie._

She tried it first, gulping it with the naivety of a child, and immediately regretting that she hadn't taken a small sip instead, especially when she choked slightly and a bit shot out of her nose, filling her eyes with tears at the burning sensation in her body. The boys -she couldn't even remember their names now- had looked at her coughing the liquid up, then down to the bottle with hesitant eyes. Neither of the boys had drunk any, and Tifa was scared her dad would find the half-drunk bottle, so they left and she poured the drink out in the dirt and crinkled her nose at the smell and the next week stole another bottle and this time drank it all.

She guessed it was fate that she would come to own a bar. And, really, it was. Zangan left exactly three days after he brought Tifa to Midgar, a not-so-tearful goodbye between the teacher and his student leaving the young woman alone in this huge city, because you know... she was alone here. She had Barret, of course, but with his cold attitude and wall of indifference, he couldn't exactly be called a companion. He _had _found her a place to stay, however, and for that she had to give him some credit. It was a room above a weapons shop, with no running water and a mattress on the floor as a bed. The squint-eyed owner of the shop had _'politely'_ asked her to make sure she stayed out during store hours, as apparently he had a few customers that preferred to not be seen by just anyone but,_ hell,_ it was free and being away during the day gave her time to explore this new... 'home'... so she wasn't complaining.

Tifa hadn't seen Barret since her first day in Midgar, when she so boldly demanded to become a part of AVALANCHE. When the girl stood up from her stool at the table, her palms slapping down against the rickety wood with a _thud_, both men looked at her as if she'd gone mad. Even more so as she exclaimed, _"I HATE SHINRA. PLEASE, ALLOW ME TO JOIN YOU, MISTER BARRET!" _

Barret had adopted an expression of panic and for a moment Tifa thought he might fall out of his chair, until he regained a bit of composure and whispered angrily, _"Shut the hell UP, girl! You wan' us to get arrested?"_

But, she _hadn't_ shut the hell up and instead just pushed a bit of hair that had fallen into her face away forcefully and repeated her request again and Barret stood up and balled his one bear-like hand into a fist and threatened to beat the shit out of her if she didn't _shut up._ But, she smirked and taunted him to try and he reared his fist back and she lifted her own and next thing they knew all three of them had been thrown out of the bar and Tifa's mouth was cut and Barret had a blush of purple forming on his swollen jaw and Zangan was cursing at the both of them because he'd spent quite a bit of money on the drinks they weren't able to finish.

Barret scowled and eyed Tifa warily, which she met with an equally annoyed gaze. They stared each other down, until finally the former broke and looked away with a dry chuckle on his lips and the words, _"Well, hell. Fer a slip o' a thing, ya sher can pack a damn good punch."_ And, with that, Tifa was AVALANCHE.

She didn't know how many other members of the group there were, only that Barret was the current boss and they were primarily stationed here in Midgar.

But, for the point of the moment, that is all inconsequential, as we were speaking of Tifa coming into possession of a bar, weren't we? So, we join the brunette bombshell in a market-like area near Sector Four. Tifa noticed, as the number got lower, the state of the slums got less haggard. It was still muggy and decrepit and still a _slum_, but... less trash seemed to litter the streets, the closer you got to Sector One and... in a way, that in itself was uplifting. Tifa had only been here a few weeks, but realized immediately that any sort of comfort was hard to find down here, so when she found one... she clung to it like a life-source.

Accessory and souvenir shops were set up in trailers and booths, most of their 'treasures' being nothing more than junk. Tifa grimaced at a row of crudely painted glass dolls, most with chips in them. They made her recall her own porcelain dolls she had owned back home. Tifa had never been the type of girl to play with something so feminine, much preferring the feel of a good romp in the dirt and the company of boys to frills and ribbons. With a scoff, she turned away from the things, not liking to think about... the old days.

From over her shoulder, she heard a loud _thump_ followed by an angry, _"SHIT!"_. Looking towards the commotion, she was greeted by a man hauling a wheel-barrel full of lumber, who apparently had just lost a few pieces onto his toes. He did a sort of shuffle-hop on one foot for a moment, curses and hisses of pain on his breath. Tifa offered a helping hand and began gathering the scattered pieces of wood for the injured man. Ceasing in his dance of the stubbed toe, he noticed the woman and gave a surprised whistle.

"Wow!" He was smiling a crooked grin, that showed a pretty smile, other than a few chipped teeth. His eyes were bright as he took the load off of her hands, exclaiming loudly, "You never receive such generous help down here! Especially from one as pretty as you, haha." He gave a half-hearted wink at the woman, and she laughed for the first time since coming to Midgar. For some reason, this man, with his shaggy face and wide smile, was a wondrous change of pace down in these slums.

"Hey, I got an idea, pretty thing! How about you 'n me grab a bite to eat later tonight?"

Though his words were flirty, Tifa didn't sense the same malice from him that she had felt with other men down here. He was looking at her, of course, but not with the same dark eyes she received from the weapon shop owner, or the man at the gate... He seemed... _nice._

So, she returned his smile and laughed at his invitation, yet nonetheless agreed to meet him at a little restaurant in Wall Market that evening. With a wave of his hand and another wink of his eye -onlookers had to wonder if he had some sort of twitch- this new friend departed with his wheel-barrel of lumber and Tifa felt slightly... warmer. Happy. She didn't even realize the presence of a goofy grin on her lips as she started out of the market with the intent of going home and changing for her almost-date since after all she was sixteen and sixteen-year-olds, even in a place like this, love getting prettied up and the first thing she had done when she got here was buy a new dress -dark blue and soft and made of the same type of cotton her mother's quilt had been sewn from- to replace that damned uniform and of course she needed to fix her hair up a bit and-

_"Daddy, can I 'ave one pwease?"_

A little girl, with hope and a little sadness in a weepy voice. The question came from behind her, at the booth where those ugly little dolls were.

_"P-pwease? They're pwetty..."_

_ "I... I'm sorry, hun. We jes' don' got the money."_

Tifa heard the pain in the father's voice, and closed her eyes. This... wasn't right. Wasn't _fair._ Tifa grew up spoiled, despite living in the country, she realized. A sniffle was heard from the little girl.

_"But... Daddy..."_

_ "I'm sorry, Marly. I re'lly am, I mean... I..."_

He gave a frustrated noise, and Tifa could tell how much he wanted to get it for the disappointed child. Breathing deeply in resolve, the young woman turned, her fingers already pulling her coin purse from her pocket.

"Um, excuse me! I could get that for y- _Barret?_"

With a gasp, Tifa came across the sight of the large terrorist: tattoos, gun-arm and all, with a small girl, looking to be about two, clinging to his baggy pants leg. A strange sight to behold, to say the least.

"B-Barret... what are you..."

He gave a snort of disdain towards Tifa and furrowed his brow.

"Me 'n Marlene are shoppin'."

He stated it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which, to the confused brunette, seemed even stranger than the act itself.

"...Who... is Marlene...?"

Barret reached down, and lifted the baby off of the ground and into his arms.

"_My daughter."_

There was a moment of silence, which usually entails that either someone is being respectful of another's loss, or you just entered an awkward moment of _what the fuck?_ This situation would be the latter.

You see, the idea of Barret having a daughter in itself is not _too_ much of a shock, however... This child was so obviously _not_ his daughter that the statement was bordering the absurd. Now, not that Tifa was a prejudiced woman, far from it, but... The fact of the matter was that Barret was obviously black, and the little girl with him had brown silk hair and pale, creamy skin. Definitely not black. _Definitely_ not his daughter.

But, Barret ignored Tifa's confused expression and simply turned and began to walk away when Tifa snapped from her stupor.

"W-wait! Barret! That doll, I can buy it for her!"

His steps hesitated, and his wide shoulders tensed defensively.

"...We don' need no _charity._"

The word was spat with distaste, as if the feeling of it on his tongue left him tasting something foul. But, the little girl gave something akin to a whimper and tugged on his ratty shirt, and Tifa knew Barret wouldn't let his 'daughter' go unhappy, so she handed a bit of money to the man behind the register.

She smiled at the child, who had squirmed her way from her daddy's arms and was making her way towards Tifa with a speed that seemed exceptional for something that had been crawling not a year ago.

"Which one do you want, sweetie?"

The slight girl was silent for a moment, her cheeks puffing and lips pouting slightly in a way that made it seem as if she were concentrating intensely. Then, with a look of excited revelation, she pointed a small, chubby finger towards one with brown curls and a purple dress and Tifa found herself thinking that, actually, it wasn't particularly ugly at all. No, quite the opposite, she realized, as Marlene's face broke into a wide smile and she beamed as the child hugged the doll closely and respectively named the new treasure 'Sally', though, since the child was young and still learning to speak, it came out more like '_Sawwy' _and Tifa knelt down and gave both Marlene and 'Sawwy' a hug which was greeted by a kiss on the cheek.

Marlene was sweet, and made Tifa regret taking advantage of her own pretty dolls she had owned way back then. Throughout the interaction, Barret said nothing, simply stood there with a scowl that softened when he saw his 'daughter' so happy with Sally. Tifa looked from the child to the adult, and walked closer to the man.

_"Barret..." _His name was a whisper on her mouth, and he could tell she was trying to say this in a way that no one else could hear her. _"I haven't heard from you in weeks. ...What about AVALANCHE?"_

Barret looked a bit nervous, and scuffed his feet on the ground.

_"Well, ya' see... we ain't got no HQ right now. We got no place ta' meet!"_

Tifa's brow furrowed slightly. AVALANCHE, the most successful eco-terrorists on the Planet... didn't even have a hideout...? It seemed... strange. She made a face, showing her skepticism.

_"Yeah, yeah. I get what 'yer thinkin'. 'Whut kinda organization is Barret runnin'?'" _He seemed annoyed. _"Well, ya' might not know, missy, but findin' somewhere safe around here is _pretty damn hard_."_

Tifa's brow remained furrowed, and she looked for something to say, but hadn't a comeback to Barret's defensiveness. The man pulled away from her, and began walking away, grabbing a hold of Marlene's free hand with his only hand while shooting another glance towards the younger woman.

"I'll keep in touch, 'kay? Don' worry. I ain't fe'rgot that yer' on our side."

And, with that, he and the child strolled away, a sweet melody being hummed by the smaller as they departed.

Tifa got 'home' right around sunset, not ten minutes after the store closed. Though, she swore that old shopkeep had it in for her as she reached a locked door and dark store. He was probably already at his home in Sector Eight, _the damned old man_. With a frustrated grunt and a stomp of her feet, the teen walked around to the back, and successfully scuttled her way up a gutter on the wall because, _yes, _girls _do_ scuttle and _yes, _that's how she was getting into her room 5 nights a week.

Through the frustration of the unreasonable actions of her landlord, and the relief of finally being able to sit on a bed -albeit just a mattress on the floor- all thoughts of the day were pushed away, because, _damn,_ this mattress could be pretty comfortable and she was only going to close her eyes for a minute and she wondered if there were any stars visible in the sky tonight but wasn't there something she was supposed to do... and-

_OH SHIT, THE DATE._

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_**Haha, fun fun. :) This was a damn fun chapter. R&Rs appreciated, as always.**  
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